


Last Goodbye

by Donotmind_mehere



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blindness, Character Death, Death, Hurt Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Hurt No Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Last Kiss, M/M, POV Martin Blackwood, Romantic Angst, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donotmind_mehere/pseuds/Donotmind_mehere
Summary: PLEASE read the tags, this is not a happy tale.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 4





	Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE read the tags, this is not a happy tale.

Life can be cruel. This fact has been mused upon many, more times than any human can count.

“Life is cruel.” They say when the day is dark and the clouds cover all, leaving a breath of wind like Hell’s ninth circle in their wake.

“So tragic.” They’ll whisper as you tell them of all the love you had to give and all lives and time you spent together and all for it to disappear one day in a puff of smoke and a final breath.

“It’s going to be tough.” You think when you’re in your bed, unable to sleep at two in the morning, their sleeping form curls next to you, withered and broken, clawing at life when only a short time ago, they were so full of life, so full of love. 

“Life is hard.” Your mother beats these words into you as she turned her shoulder to you and seldom acknowledged your existence. As she tried to make you into a cruel being like her, who turns their back on their crying child with the lame excuse of it making you stronger.

Life is cruel. It’s broken and dull and sometimes so much so that some cannot bear it and cut themselves from it, leaving it behind forever. Life is so cruel, it was just supposed to be a job, something to pay the bills, to put food on the table. It was meant to be an escape from the world. Taking a job that indulges people’s delusions, helps them cope with the world around them. 

Help them see that the monsters in their closets were just jackets and nicknacks. 

It was just supposed to fill the time between life and death, make it easier to drag along in the world. 

How could you have known you were so wrong about that?

Life is cruel like that. 

And in its cruelest moments it’ll tear you away from the mundanity of your existence and show you the light of the life you always wanted.

“Jonathan.” The man in front of you smiles, not enough to reach his eyes “Jonathan Sims and this is Tim.”

You blush and breath in sharply did you see the color in his eyes? Did he see the pink in your dull cheeks?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You gasp out and there’s a moment when this is still a fantasy and you can still turn back, still run away and hide under the comfortable bleak your life has become. 

Before skin touches skin and you’re tossed into a whole new existence not your own. They don’t happen all at once, that’s way too easy.

But you notice his intellect above all and engage him in banter, along with the others to be polite.

You notice the way he constantly moves his hair out his eyes, so buy a pack of Bobby pins and always have one when it's needed. 

You remember that he likes his morning coffee but thinks it too strong for mid-day, so you make him a cup a bit after lunch and offer it with a smile in your eyes.

You aren’t always on his side, you have your limits and there are times when maybe letting go would be better, quit while you’re ahead, you can sense the coming dread, the coming storm and wreckage that follows after.

It chews at you. 

But before the flood comes crashing in, another wave hits your shores and you realize the world is not what it seems but you’re already in it’s jaws. 

You twist and struggle and you’re scared and alone and you think for a moment to maybe let go, maybe give in and like the darkness overtake you, but you can’t do that anymore. Maybe if the storm had come many years ago but not today.

Once you’re safe if only slightly so you realize that you’re not actually alone. The monsters in your room may exist and for every monster there is a hero to slay it. And It takes you some to realize that  _ you _ must be that hero every once in a while. 

And being a hero is hard and lonely work. So lonely in fact you disappear into it until you hear a knock at the echoing door and man, you that you once knew is standing in front you, eyes sunken and empty but soul finally free. 

“I love you.” He says and falls into your arms, weak from the blood loss, weak from the cut off to the lifeline that was keeping him afloat. 

“Don’t go.” You whisper, and of course you’d get your wish, but every wish comes at a price. And some are steeper than others. 

You lay in bed with these thoughts in your head, flashing before you like you’re about pass on.

You smile with tears in your eyes until the shock shoots through you like lightning in your head. These are thoughts and a life flashing and the body in the bed with you does not stir as you shake it furiously as the winds outside.

“Wake up please!” You demand to the lifelessness in your arms.

“Please you beg…” and with one final gift from him to you a flash of a kiss and burst of inopportune happiness before the world fades to black and grey again till the worlds still and you’re left once again with no one but yourself. 

It’s years before you muster the courage to see him again. You remember his hair and how it used to get his eyes that shone like grass with morning dew, and face hard as stone and beautiful as a painting. 

You remember the life he lead before his death too. The way he’d sniff the air as he tried to guess what you were making him for dinner. Or the way he’d cry into your arms when he thought of a book he could no longer read and the life that was slipping past him like water in your hands.

You remember him for all he was and when you visit, you bring coffee, with lots of sugar and cream, and imagining you can feel the turning in the grave below you as you tell him of the world he misses. Of the ones who miss him. 

“Sasha’s death was hard on Tim.” You mumble and think of the fight you two got into to ‘ at least you go to say goodbye!’ He yelled at you when he stormed out the funeral home and out of your life.

“It’s just not the same without you there.” You say “ Tim tried but he isn’t.” You sigh, I miss you, you want to say, you took a piece of me with you, you selfish bastard, you want to yell, you stole my heart and they buried it in the ground that day you really want to yell but what good would any of that do for you? 

“I love you, Jon.” Is written on the flowers you leave at his grave every other month. You bring them with the coffee you’ve gotten used to and think that maybe he’d had been happier if only you tried it when he was alive. 

Life is cruel in the sickest of ways. 

And maybe that’s why we die, to make all that pain, go away. 


End file.
